


Iris

by AlexSW97



Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Soulmate AU, Uni AU, pure fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:11:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,784
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSW97/pseuds/AlexSW97
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulmate AU where your eye color matches your soulmate's shirt color. Minho's eyes always match Newt's shirts, but Newt's eyes have never changed color. Ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Iris

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! So I actually wrote this for a class, but just changed the names, so it might be a little different than my normal stuff. Hope you like it! Let me know if you would like more from this, I could maybe do another chapter, or break it into a couple, longer chapters?  
> -Alex

Today, his eyes were purple. 

A bright, luminescent lilac color, which stood out so strongly, he looked alien. Yesterday, his eyes were a murky yellow, and the day before that, an icey blue. It wasn’t uncommon, of course, to have changing eye colors. In fact, it was perfectly normal. It had something to do with  _ soulmates _ , which Minho had zero interest in. Absolute none. 

He pulled his contact case out of the medicine cupboard. He took one out, popping it into his right eye. The dull brown ring concealed the lilac, allowing him to feel human again. He had given up on the whole ‘eye color matches your soulmate’s shirt’ when he realised half the kids in his school wore the same color everyday. He put the other contact in, slipped the case into his bag, and left his dorm room, heading to his first class.

He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket as he walked down the hall. Obnoxious chatter could be heard through each door that he passed. One voice in particular was gushing about how excited they were for first period. Minho didn’t know how anyone could be that cheerful at eight in the morning. 

A flash of purple caught his eye as he entered the stairwell. “Hey sunshine,” Minho felt a hand slide into his neatly-styled hair, messing it up. Minho pushed the hand away, scowling at his best friend. Newt smirked at him, arms folded across his lilac shirt. “Sleep well?”

Minho groaned in response, trying to fix his hair as he led the way down the staircase. Minho was well aware that his eyes matched Newt’s shirt. They had matched his shirt everyday since the day they met. Newt’s eyes, however, were the same whiskey color as they had been on the day they met, and every day since. Newt’s eyes had never changed.

“So,” Newt began, tugging Minho over to the coffee shop they went to every morning. “What color today?” 

“White,” He lied, avoiding eye contact. Newt had always been fascinated by the changing eye color thing. No one understood why Newt’s eyes never changed, the doctors speculated that his soulmate had died at birth. Newt had accepted that answer, but Minho had not. It didn’t make sense to him how Newt could be his soulmate, when Newt’s soulmate was was supposedly dead. 

“Weird,” They reached the front of the line, Newt ordering both of their drinks. “Wanna come over tonight?”

“Got homework,” Minho shrugged, taking his coffee from the barista with a short ‘thanks.’

“We can watch chick-flicks,” Newt suggested, elbowing him in the ribs suggestively. 

“Y’know,  _ I  _ don’t actually like those sappy movies, that’s  _ you _ .” Minho insisted. 

“Oh please,” Newt shook his head before heading off in a different direction. “Come over around five, we’ll get take out!”

“I got a paper due tomorrow!” Minho insisted, knowing full well he’d end up in Newt’s dorm that night.

\---------------

It was eleven o’clock, and Minho was still sitting on Newt’s couch, scooping up the remnants of their Thai food. Newt was sprawled out on his bed, aimlessly scrolling through his phone. He let out an occasional breath of laughter, or groan of annoyance. 

“You stayin’ over?” Newt asked, tossing his phone onto the bed beside him. He sat up, ruffling his hair. 

“I literally live one floor down,” Minho pointed out, making no move to leave. 

“So yes,” Newt rubbed at his eyes and got to his feet. Minho nodded, stretching out on the couch. “I need a piss,” Newt muttered, walking to his attached washroom. 

Minho sighed, letting his eyes wander around Newt’s room. It was messy, to say the least. Minho figured it was a staple for any artist, to have a disastrous living space. Newt had insisted for years that the mess was art itself, but Minho always thought it was an excuse to get his mother off his back. As he lay there, however, Minho began to discover the beauty of the chaos.

The irony of the empty garbage bin, surrounded by dozens of crumpled paper. Piles of clean and dirty clothes lay in heaps around the room, barely distinguishable from one another. Bottles scattered the floor, some of the weeks old. Minho figured each piece of the mess had it’s own story, ones that he was desperate to learn more of.

The truth was, he did love Newt, in that sappy soulmate way. He loved his tousled blond hair, especially the way the sun hit it just right. He loved Newt’s wide smile when he laughed at the absolute  _ worst _ jokes. He loved the way he was so animated and happy, a complete paradox to Minho’s dark and moody attitude. 

“Bro, i’m ready to hit the sack, how ‘bout you?” Newt asked, yawning. Minho nodded, pushing himself off the couch. He dug around in his bag, pulling his contact case out. 

“Gotta take my contacts out,” Minho explained, brushing past Newt on his way to the washroom. He entered the washroom, closing the door behind it. He sighed, running his hand over his face. He set the case on the counter and looked into the mirror. His dark hair had lost it’s shape, falling flat over his forehead, making him look significantly younger. 

He took his contacts out, surprised to find the murky brown color underneath. Newt must have taken his shirt off, causing his eyes to revert to their original color. He blinked at himself, double checking that he didn’t have anything stuck in his teeth. He could at least  _ try _ to look presentable. He brushed a few crumbs off his black shirt, and left the room. 

“Min?” The room was dark, Minho could make out Newt’s form from underneath his blankets. 

“Hmm?” He walked to Newt’s bed, grabbing the blanket folded across the bottom. He blindly made his way to the couch, trying not to trip over any of the mess. 

“Ya think there’s actually someone out there for me?” He whispered, shuffling around in his bed. Minho lay down on the couch, pulling the blanket over top of his body.

“Dude, obviously there’s someone else out there with no soulmate,” Minho tried to be sympathetic, but was stopped by both his closed-off attitude, and his knowledge of Newt’s soulmate. “Ya just gotta look harder.”

“Thanks man, ya always know  _ just _ what to say,” Newt said sarcastically. Minho sighed, closing his eyes. “But ya really think so?”

“Of course, Newt,” he yawned, rolling onto his side. “There’s gotta be.” Newt said nothing after that, most likely having succumbed to his tiredness. Minho sighed, cuddling deeper into his blanket. 

\---------------------

Newt was in the washroom, the yellow light seeping under the door straight into Minho’s eyes. He had been in there for about ten minutes now, and Minho was considering going to check on him. Newt’s quiet, but frantic whispers could be heard from the bathroom, though Minho couldn’t make out what he was saying. He waited another five minutes before deciding he should at least make sure Newt was alright.

“Whatcha doin’ Newt?” He said softly, walking to the door. He heard the whispers stop as he reached the door. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just-” The lock on the door turned, allowing Minho to enter. He opened the door, and slid in. Newt was leaning over the counter, his face right up against the glass, a scrutinizing look on his face. 

“Countin’ your eyelashes?” Minho joked, walking over to Newt. 

“My eyes,” He whispered, fingers lightly dancing over the skin beneath his eyes. Minho stepped closer, grasping Newt’s shoulder to turn him around. Their eyes met, revealing not only that Newt’s eyes had finally changed color, but that they were black, the same as Minho’s shirt. Newt didn’t seem to have made the connection, and Minho had no intentions to point it out. 

“What the fuck?” Minho whispered, his own hands finding their way to Newt’s face, fingers touching the skin around Newt’s eyes. 

“I-I don’t know,” Newt whispered frantically, turning back to look in the mirror. Minho let his hands fall to his sides. “My eyes were all itchy, so I came in here to put drops in ‘em and- and look!” He gestured frantically to his face. Minho grabbed his shoulders again, turning Newt to face him. 

“Calm down, man.” Minho shook Newt lightly, staring at his eyes with awe. “I told ya! You do have a soulmate!”

“Great,” Newt scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Now all I gotta do is find someone wearing a black shirt.” Minho flushed, looking away quickly. Newt’s eyes widened when he saw Minho’s shirt.

“What?” Minho asked when Newt gave him a shocked expression. “Whatcha lookin’ at me like that for?”

“Maybe we’re soulmates!” Newt joked. Minho scoffed at him, unable to help the blood rushing to his face.

“Don’t ya think we would know that already? My eyes change color, y’know,” Newt pondered the thought for a moment, before scowling. 

“You never let me see your eyes, Min.”

“You’re lookin’ at ‘em right now!” Newt surveyed him for a moment, before walking out of the bathroom. Minho stood frozen in the middle of the floor, his breath caught in his throat. Newt’s eyes had  _ finally _ changed color. 

“Min,” Minho spun around to Newt who was standing in the doorway. He caught sight of the purple as he turned, slamming his eyes closed stubbornly. “Open them,” Newt insisted. Minho could hear him move forward. His heart was pounding, stomach contorting into knots. He felt like he was going to be sick.

He jumped when Newt’s hand landed softly on his cheek. Minho bit his lip, refusing to open his eyes. “Minho, come on.” Minho swallowed his pride, easing his eyes open to look Newt directly in the eyes. Newt let out a breath, somewhere between relief and confusion. “Why didn’t ya tell me?” Minho shrugged, looking down at his feet. 

“Dunno,” He mumbled.

“Min, why did my eyes only change now?” Newt was close. So, so close. His soft breath was hitting Minho’s face. 

“Dunno,” He mumbled again, raising his eyes to meet Newt’s. “Did ya realised you’re in love with me or somethin’?” He smirked, suddenly confident with confirmation of his soulmate. “Maybe your eyes are special. Maybe they change to whoever you’re in love with.”

“What makes you think i’m in love with ya?” Newt asked, so close now that their lips brushed together. Minho smirked, pulling Newt closer by his shirt, crashing their lips together. 

So maybe Minho had a lot more interest in the ‘soulmate’ thing than he let on. Especially if it meant getting to hold Newt like that for the rest of his life. 


End file.
